Beauty and the Beast
by Ravin' Raven
Summary: Hermione is given to the Beast of Grimmwauld Estate as a sacrifice. But when it becomes apparent that the Beast is not going to eat her, Hermione decides to stay at the castle. R&R!
1. Meeting Baron Beast

Beauty and the Beast

Chapter One: Meeting the Beast

Hermione muttered to herself as her captors dragged her along, their ham-sized hands grasping at each of her elbows and pulling her backwards towards the looming castle that she knew was staring at her back. She had ceased fighting them half a mile back, to exhausted to do much but let them pull her along, her heels leaving tracks in the brown earth. She had tied the obnoxious gown they had given her to wear around her knees to avoid dust. If she was to be thrown into some castle as a 'sacrifice' to some baron, she would do it with dignity.

Damn her father. Him and his damned gambling problems. Selling off his own daughter to pay for a gambling debt, when he knew of the superstitious nature of the villagers. Every year, the villagers of Hogsmeade would cart off with some girl and throw her down at the castle gate. Occasionally they came back, starved and raving with sickness, half mad with exposure. Most others were never seen again.

The gown was a radiant emerald shade of velvet, with a long, billowing gown, lined in black lace with silver embroidery along the edge, depicting serpents entwined in Celtic-type knots. There was a black velvet sash tied around her waist, the ends hanging down to the bottom of the skirt in back. The sleeves were also green, fitting like a second skin, and a loop of fabric hooked over her middle finger. The bodice was extremely tight and Hermione found that she had trouble breathing if she did anything but keep her back perfectly straight. It was green, with the same pattern that was on her skirt around the embarrassingly low neckline. The boat neck was, in Hermione's mind, sinful.

Large, intimidating iron gates screeched open and Hermione was thrown unceremoniously down onto the path. Rubbing her sore bottom, she untied her skirt, and brushed it quickly with her hands as she walked up the paved path to Grimmwauld Estate.

The path was lined with rose bushes, in full bloom and covered with black roses. Glancing up, Hermione saw that the castle itself was decorated with dark, looming gargoyles, all glaring down at her through bestial eyes. Averting her eyes to the ground she hurried to the large oaken doors, carved with scenes of bloody battles, and ironically enough, roses on either side of the ring handles. Pulling on the heavy doors, she laughed nervously as they creaked ominously. As she closed the door behind her, the dark entrance hall was suddenly lit with the glow of over a hundred candles, apparently enchanted to light at the entrance of a living creature. Or maybe she was just lucky.

A low, rumbling growl echoed through the hall and Hermione spun around from where she as facing the door and came face to face with a large, wolfish beast. It loomed almost two feet over her, with a long, black muzzle filled with two inch teeth and four inch canines. The eyes were a golden yellow, glaring full force down at her. It was as though a large, fully clothed coal black wolf was standing over her. It was wearing a black frock coat, buttoned to the thick base of its neck, hanging down to the beast's ankles, revealing exposed paws with two inch claws surrounded with shaggy black fur.

"Why have you trespassed upon Grimmwauld Estate?" The voice was low and rocky, a lion's purr. Hermione clasped her hands behind her back, taking a step backwards and bumping into the door.

"I was sent, by the villagers. They said I was to be the sacrifice." Hermione was deeply embarrassed. She hated insinuating that this being may be so primitive as to accept sacrifices. The beast turned around.

"Of course. Would you like an aid back to the village or would you rather go someplace else? I wouldn't recommend either, but the previous women who did not instantly flee the grounds decided that they would rather go to some new town and try to salvage some scraps of their old lives." Hermione was surprised; he wasn't going to eat her, or something. Damn villagers! Scaring her like that. Well she certainly wasn't going back to her pitiful excuse of a father. And she didn't think that she would be able to survive on her own in unfamiliar territory. As much as she hated to admit it, she was dependent and frightened.

"May I stay the night here, if it is not too much trouble? I should like to think about my decision and it is already close to night fall." The beast looked slightly startled, but Hermione couldn't be sure if he was or if he was angered that she had asked to stay. "If you wish. Come, I will show you to a room." And he started up the winding steps, the enchanted candles seeming to float after him.

A walk down a dark, narrow hallway led to a set of double doors with glass door handles. There were no carvings on this door, for which Hermione was glad. The Beast swung open the doors, revealing a room decorated in blue and silver, with dark wood furniture and an enchanted portrait of a beautiful woman holding her cat. There was a bright fire roaring at the hearth, with a small table set to the left. The table was already set for dinner and Hermione could smell the tantalizing aroma of roast pork wafting over from the plate.

When she turned to thank the Beast, she found that he had gone, closing the doors behind him with a muted click. Hermione strode up to the elegantly carved chair and sat in front of the appealing dinner plate. Roast pork with a potato and fresh greens. Hermione was about to dig into the meal, but hesitated. The plate had been set before the Beast showed her the room. Had he been expecting her? Or did he have house elves as many nobles usually did?

Hermione had seen neither hide nor hair of an elf, so she assumed he must have been expecting her and had the staff prepare a room. Hastily accepting any theory that would permit her to eat, she shrugged aside her worries for the time being and cut into the meat before her.

When Hermione awoke the next morning, the sun had risen high in the sky, although its light was muffled by thick blue curtains. She stretched luxuriously in the king sized bed, amazed at its softness. Baron Beast, as Hermione had taken to calling him in her mind, for he was a baron, must have had it charmed. No one in the village could afford charmed mattresses and most didn't take the time to learn the charm themselves. Hermione sighed. As a peasant she had been allowed no access to education.

She had a wand, but it was her mother's, and she wasn't sure if it would work for her. She would wave it a round occasionally, but nothing really happened. Once she had flicked it at random and a book flew out and hit her in the nose, but when she tried it again, nothing happened.

She pulled the wand out from the straps under her sleeves. It was beautiful. A dark, willow wood wand, very flexible, with phoenix feather core, eleven inches. When she was a little girl, her mother would summon butterflies that vanished whenever Hermione caught them in her small hands.

Pushing the memory aside, she stuffed the wand under her mattress and threw the covers aside. The chair and table were set for breakfast. Toast and marmalade, eggs, sausage and bacon and a tall glass of milk. A simple gown hung over the back of the chair, its long skirt brushing the floor. Hermione spread it out on the bed, scrutinizing it closely. It was a vibrant shade of burgundy, with white and gold trimming on the neck and sleeves. Stitched into the trim were golden lions, seeming to prowl back and forth across the hems. After quickly gulping down the breakfast provided for her, Hermione carefully dressed herself, thankful for the silver comb and brush that had been left on the bedside table. She twisted her hair up into a bun on the back of her head, using the decorative comb to pin it in place. The comb was shaped like a rose, the petals made out of paper thin slices of ruby, carefully shaped over a silver wrought frame. The leaves of the rose were of the same design, only in emeralds.

Slipping on her shoes, she braced herself for a journey around the castle, and hopefully a talk with Baron Beast. Pushing the double doors open, she found that her hopes were not in vain. The beast was standing right outside her door, as though expecting her exit.

"Good morning, I trust you slept well?" Hermione nodded cautiously.

"Yes, thank you." There was a long pause and the Beast turned and began down the hall, speaking to Hermione still.

"I have had a horse prepared for you. It is a short walk to the stables and I will take you by the kitchens so you may gather some rations for your journey." When he noticed that Hermione was not following him, he turned his head around, looking at her sideways through one yellow eye. "Well? Are you coming or have you chosen to join the troops of gargoyles adorning my castle? You certainly look enough like one with your mouth hanging open like that."

Hermione snapped her mouth shut and glared at the Beast's back, the Beast, seeming to sense her gaze, wheeled around and stared right back at her. After a few minutes he turned away, his wolfish lips seeming to lift slightly at the corners.

"Come, the servants can not be kept waiting." He continued to walk down the hall and this time Hermione followed dutifully after him.

A short walk through the black rose gardens led to a large stable that smelled of horses and hay and Hermione was comforted by the smell. But once they stepped inside, she was puzzled to find it empty.

"But there are no horses here." The Beast shook his shaggy head.

"No, there are no horses. Don't tell me you can not see the thestrals?" Hermione took a shaky step back. Thestrals were considered an omen of death by the villagers, but then again, Hermione thought, they also thought that Baron Beast planned to eat her. She shook her head quickly, but carefully, so as not to dislodge the comb. "Then I shall help you mount one. Would you prefer a mare or gelding? I have trained both well, but I would recommend the mare for you, she is much more agreeable."

Hermione paused, the Beast was resting a hand on one of the invisible thestrals and the fact that he was so easily leaning against something she couldn't see alarmed her. She thought about the castle, Grimmwauld Estate, with its looming gargoyles that had seen so many secrets, about the mystery of the prepared meals and clothes. She also thought about the Baron Beast, alone in this castle for so long, with no one to talk to, though, she supposed, maybe he liked it that way. But, she decided, she would stay for as long as she could and try and discover all that she could about this place, make excuses to stay and then, when the Beast made her leave, she would tell the tales of a fearsome Beast with his dark castle, who rode one thestrals instead of horses.


	2. Living With Baron Beast

Beauty and the Beast

AN: Sorry it took so long, please don't hurt me! cowers behind her desk

Chapter Two

After a week of excuses, Hermione made up her mind. She was going to stay, if Baron Beast would let her. For the first three days, all her meals where served in her room, but after that time, she had gained enough knowledge of the grounds to know the location of the common rooms, such as the dining room, the kitchen, the ballroom, and of course, the library. Once she had trafficked these areas often, her meals began being served at the same time, six o'clock, and with Baron Beast.

The Baron Beast had believed, or seemed to believe, her lie about not being able to ride a horse and had been coaching her in riding thestrals.

"They are enough like a horse or pony that you should have no trouble adapting." She rode at least an hour everyday, if weather allowed, under the sharp, dark eyes of the Baron. She had become comfortable enough on their backs, but mounting was a separate matter. The idea of clambering into a floating saddle was still rather disturbing. The first time she had attempting riding was bright and sunny, with just enough cloud cover that the light shifted constantly. The Beast led her to the readied thestral and gestured for her to mount. Now, generally, Hermione could easily leap onto the back of any small horse, with or without a saddle. But a tangible horse is completely different from what appears to be a levitating saddle.

When Hermione had approached the thestral, she had simply mounted as she would any other animal, and succeeded in falling off. Her nervousness at riding a thestral had kept her from remembering to lift her leg completely over the saddle, and caught it on the back of the English saddle, which was higher than that of the Western saddles she was accustomed to and reached for a saddle horn that wasn't there. Baron Beast had watched her struggle for a moment before saying, with a hint of amusement in his voice,

"Would you like some assistance?" Hermione was tempted to glare but thought better of it. She gritted her teeth.

"Yes, some help would be much appreciated." He had taken one of her feet in his large hands and help boost her into the saddle.

There was much improvement by the end of the week, and at dinner Baron Beast had stated,

"I believe that you should be well enough off riding through the woods surrounding the grounds, tomorrow morning I shall has the maids aid you in preparing for your trip-" Hermione cut in, afraid that the Baron may be offended, but not willing to let him continue.

"I-I don't want to leave." Baron Beast's wolfish ears shot forward and his golden eyes widened.

"I beg your pardon? What do you mean you don't wish to leave? I was under the impression that you wished to leave as soon as possible." Hermione glanced down shyly and fingered the hem of her scarlet gown.

"I don't. I would greatly appreciate it if you would let me stay here." Baron Beast shook his shaggy head, chuckling quietly. "Please, let me stay. I don't want to leave."

"I have no problem with your staying here, although I must ask that you not enter the East Wing. Those are my quarters and laboratories, and I don't wish for you to go poking about." Hermione nearly leapt out of her chair.

"Thank you, oh, thank you, thank you!" She sat back down in her chair and began eating her salad with relish. To the Baron Beast, she seemed to glow in a golden light.

"Hermione," Hermione glanced up from the last of her dessert of strawberries, "Will you marry me?" Hermione started away from the table, rising in surprise. She started shaking her head,

"Oh, Beast, I can't, I just can't!" She turned and ran from the table, shocked at her own behaviors, but more so by those of Baron Beast. But she had gained permission to stay in the castle, and she would. Her pride would not let her run away.

Hermione, being a more permanent member of the estate, began eating all her meals with the Baron and found great pleasure in exploring the extensive library. Although she could not read many of the languages the Baron possessed, she found great joy in the books that had been so out of reach for her when she was younger. Often the Beast could be found in the library when she entered and they would often read together, occasionally the Beast would even read to her from one of the volumes that she could not read, and she found great pleasure in listening, not to the words, which she couldn't understand anyway, but to the Beast's voice. Like sandpaper and velvet and a roar and a purr all together.

She came to very much enjoy her stay with Baron Beast, and often they would walk through the garden together, admiring the dark beauty of the black roses, or ride thestrals around the grounds. The only exception to the enjoyment of her stay was the inevitable nightly question.

"Hermione, will you marry me?" At first her reaction was of shock and alarm, she couldn't imagine ever being married to Baron Beast, soon that feeling warped into a feeling of resignation. Her answer became flatter and flatter. After almost six months, she started feeling guilty, for she obviously hurt the Beast every time she answered him. His head would drop the slightest bit, his eyes would glaze slightly and his ears would drop. He was so obviously wounded that it started to hurt Hermione as well. But she loved what they had, as not friends, but as people on the same level, who respected each other and appreciated the presence of the other. Hermione did not want to marry someone she did not love, although she was sure that marriage between herself and the Baron would work, she did not feel it would have any meaning at all. She wanted to marry someone, but she did not want to marry a person she did not love.

There was one occasion, almost four months after Hermione had come to the Grimmwauld Estate, she had refused him as she had every night, and he had reacted in a more extreme way than was usual. He slammed his huge fist down on the table, causing all objects on the surface to jump or tip.

"Do you enjoy tormenting me so!" Hermione pressed herself back into her chair, she had never been this afraid of the Beast since the first time she encountered him. "Why do you stay in this castle, stay with me when you do nothing but play with my mind! You seem to draw me close during the day and push me away in the evening. Do you enjoy this agony!" Hermione had begun sobbing and pushed her chair back so violently that it fell on its side. She ran from the room and up the grand staircase, sobbing. As she slammed her door she could hear what sounded like a howl and yet a proud roar.

The following week had been tense, but there was still a continued routine and by the end of the week the incident was either forgiven or forgotten. The Baron Beast had purchased Hermione her very own horse, as to save her discomfort around the thestrals. It was an Arabian mare, with a beautiful dapple gray coat that matched wonderfully with Hermione's Navy blue riding clothes. She had finally learnt to ride side saddle, and she had to confess that she enjoyed parading around the grounds, and feeling beautiful. She would occasionally urge Beauty –for that was the horse's name- into a trot, then into a gallop as a sort of challenge to the Beast, who rode a great, thundering thestral, like the Clysdale horses that the other nobles usually rode. Well, he did as far as she could tell.

They would race through the gardens, her hood being whipped off her head and the thick braid lashing behind her. His cape would flare behind him and his mouth would open and his teeth flash in the light, his fur would wave in the wind and he was oddly handsome in Hermione's eyes.


	3. Nightmares & Dreams Come True

Beauty and the Beast

AN: Sorry that's it's taken so long, but I hope you enjoy the chapter anyway! PS: The identity of Baron Beast shall remain a secret until it is proper to unveil him!

Chapter Three

One day, Hermione was sitting in the library, reading a book of poetry that was actually in English. The Beast entered from the side entrance, adjoined with the study, and sat across from her in a high backed chair.

"What are you reading today?" Hermione lifted the book slightly to show him the cover, her eyes not ceasing in their journey across the pages. "Are you so absorbed that you can not stop to speak to me, Hermione?" Hermione nodded, distracted. He conceded to her, and simply sat and watched her read. Hermione soon felt the gaze on her, and glanced up, then back down at her book. Soon, Hermione cracked under the intense stare and set the book down in her lap.

"Tell me about his place." This, Hermione realized, was more a command than a request, but Baron Beast did not seem to mind her assumed authority. She drew her legs up under the voluminous layers of her skirt and wrapped her arms around her knees. Her hair was loose today and tumbled over her shoulders in carelessly loose curls and waves like a lion's mane. Her eyes seemed to glow with curiosity.

"Curiosity killed the cat you know." Hermione smiled as the Baron set a hand on his knee and his long muzzle pressed into the back of his hand.

"But I'm not a cat." Baron Beast smiled, his lips stretching over fangs, ivory yellow from the years.

"Ever sharp witted, aren't we? Well, were should I begin? At the beginning I suppose, but beginnings are so hard to pinpoint." He seemed to ponder for a moment. "I suppose it started when my four time great-grandfather commissioned the construction of this castle for a summer home. Once he married, his wife, Selene turned this place into a permanent residence. My family has lived here ever since. There is another castle in this piece of land, but it was abandoned in favor of this one." Hermione scoffed. "What?"

"That's not at all what I was looking for! I wanted to know about your experience here, your life." She hesitated. "Although I'm not so sure now that you would want to tell me." The Beast fondled the lace edging of his frock coat.

"I shall tell you, although my memory is somewhat limited. I was born a long time ago. I do not remember the exact year; for I have been in this form so long it has made me forgetful of my human years." Hermione realized at that moment that she had thought of the Baron Beast as only a beast, never thinking that he had once been human. "When I was sixteen, I was put under an enchantment by a vengeful sorceress by the name of Minerva. This I will never forget. I was a cruel man, I know that, and I have done my best to change for the better, in hopes that the sorceress would lift her spell. Alas, she died before I had changed by any significant amount. My time in this castle has been lonesome. I often took out my frustration on the furniture, and I do not doubt that the villagers believed me to be a malicious creature. That was when they began sending sacrifices."

"But they had been sending sacrifices since before I was born. How old are you if it's been that long?" Baron Beast seemed to smile half-heartedly.

"Time passes differently here than it does outside. For every ten years out there, those within this castle live one year. I have been here for almost two hundred years."

"That would make you thirty six!" Hermione was not so surprised about his age, and was glad that he was still in the 'prime' of his life. If he had been ancient, she may have been slightly repulsed by the idea of a marriage proposal from him, although it was ordinary for elder men to marry young women. She was seventeen, and had she been on the outside, she would have most likely been married off to someone about Baron Beast's age, if not older.

"Does my age bother you?" The question was hesitant, timid, and Hermione found the sound of it very odd coming from a great Beast with teeth like steak knives. She shook her head before releasing her knees from her arms.

"I try to never judge on things like age and appearance. It goes against my principles." The Beast nodded, and resumed staring at her. Hermione's eyes shifted around the library, before she asked,

"Would you read something to me?" Baron Beast started slightly, sat a little straighter and Hermione rushed to correct herself. "It's just that I was never really taught to read, and I have learned a lot, but I don't know many of the languages in here-" She sought to continue but was cut off by a gentle "Of course," from the Beast. He had risen during her hurried explanation and pulled a book of the shelf.

"How do you feel about Kipling?" Hermione shook her head.

"I have never heard of him." Baron Beast inclined his head slightly.

"I though you wouldn't. Many of the books here have not been written yet." Hermione was puzzled at this statement, but the Baron left no room for her to interrupt. "We'll start with something else then. Shakespeare perhaps." Hermione nodded, again not knowing the name, but sensing that Beast had not been asking a question, but finalizing a decision made in his own mind.

Thus began their daily ritual. Every afternoon after lunch, they would walk to the library, side by side and continue the book previously read or begin a new one if necessary. Baron Beast often made the final choice, but Hermione did not feel the need to object. In the following months, this had become a sacred time for Hermione. She forgot about his marriage proposal that always came, and of all the troubles that concerned her during the rest of the day. The Baron's voice flowed over her, a lion's purr, like dark chocolate or warm velvet.

One day, during a reading, Hermione actually dosed off against the Beast's arm, and he lifted her up to set her on the couch, but her grip on his frock was like steel, her knuckles were white.

Hermione was dreaming. But that did not make the woods surrounding her any less terrifying and it did not smother the howls of the wolves surrounding her. Then she was surrounded by them. Their great fangs flashing and spittle running down their chin and melting the snow beneath their enormous paws, the glowing red eyes that were pits of terror to Hermione. Then Baron Beast, like a gigantic wolf himself, seemed to appear from behind her.

He fought off the wolves and led her back to Grimmwauld Estate and when they crossed the threshold, the Baron Beast collapsed, dead.

Hermione was jerked from her sleep, screaming and sobbing. She wrapped her arms around the Beast's thick neck and buried her face in the fur that smelt of cedar and sandalwood. A tentative hand reached up to gently stroke her hair, and Hermione felt a gentle scrape of claws on her scalp. It was oddly soothing.

"You were dead and I was so scared!" She continued crying for almost half an hour, the Beast waiting patiently for the stream to stop. She cried herself to sleep, and the Baron Beast carried her up to her room and set her down on the bed. Before leaving he quickly flicked his large paw, a roaring fire appeared in the hearth. He closed the door silently and slowly.

"Good night, Hermione."

The following morning, Hermione was slightly embarrassed that she had fallen asleep the way she had. And also for not waking up to remove her gown or at least let her hair down. It was a mess now, poofy and bed-heady and hideous. Or so Hermione thought. The Beast thought it was wonderfully wild and beautiful. The dress she had been wearing would take days to air smooth again, and although she did not know exactly who did all the chores around the castle, she hated to be an inconvenience to them, whoever they were.

Today she and Baron Beast were riding outside the castle, a slow easy walk through the grounds and gardens. While they walked, it was silent, and although Hermione itched for something to talk about, she felt that disturbing the quiet would be awkward and slightly annoying. It was so peaceful, with the breeze playing through the trees and a bird singing off in the distance. So, she remained quiescent, inwardly twitching with anxious energy.

Later, when they returned to the manor, Hermione retreated to the library. She immersed herself in Dante's Inferno, struggling to decipher the verse and ancient speech. As she sounded out the words, Baron Beast came through the back entrance, smiling to himself as she struggled over extensive words and syllables.

"It's sodomites, not sodemitees. Although your progress is astounding."

"Thank you very much." Hermione set a bookmark in the book and set it back on the shelf, setting herself by the fire, which had increased in fervidity since the Baron's arrival. "Are you a wizard? Such strange things always happen here, and I never see any servants or any type of help around here." The Beast nodded, pulling a twelve inch wand of ebony black wood out of his pocket. "Since I was a boy, my parents had tutored my, then they died and I was left by myself and the library. Books teach you a good deal, as you well know." Hermione nodded.

"Could you teach me? Magic, I mean?" Baron Beast shrugged his enormous shoulders.

"I could, but it depends on your ability. Some are born with the power, others are not. If you are not born with the power of magic in your veins, then you cannot learn."

"My mother was a witch. My father was normal, I think. But he was so drunk the majority of the time that I can't be sure. I have my mother's wand with me." Hermione rose and ran to her room, shoving her arm under her mattress and pulling out the wand, then running back. "This was hers. Its rowan, eleven inches. Very flexible, or at least, that's how mother used to describe it." The Beast smiled at her exuberance. "Watch!" She gave it a little wave; a small moth flew from the tip and dissolved into tiny sparks after about thirty seconds.

"I will teach you, as best I can." Hermione tucked her arm through Baron Beast's, in a show of tentative affection.

"Thank you."


	4. Intensity

Beauty and the Beast

AN: I am so sorry it took so long to update, but I've been really busy.

Chapter Four

"No, no, no!" The Beast let out a frustrated growl. "Twist and flick! If you swish it the result is entirely different!" Hermione scowled and attempted the motion again, sighing gently at the nod of approval Baron Beast gave her. "Now attempt both the motion and the incantation." Hermione nodded and lifted her wand.

"Preem Averia," the potted tulips on the desk before her twitched slightly and Hermione froze, her arm still raised as the bud began to form bright petals, which opened in a slow motion spiral motion. She smiled as they petals opened wide to receive the sunlight and the leaves stretched outwards. She lowered her wand when she felt a heavy weight on her shoulder, and looked up to see the Baron's teeth glinting in his parody of a smile, which Hermione returned.

"You show remarkable potential, Hermione. That will be all for today." He removed his paw from her shoulder and began to leave the library, where her lessons where being conducted. Hermione felt vaguely disappointed at the loss of the approving weight and warmth of his touch. She turned and clutched her mother's wand to her chest in a nervous gesture.

"Baron, what about…what about our reading? We were going to finish Macbeth today." The Baron paused, his paw of the curved handle of the library door. His lips twitched and he glanced over his velvet-coated shoulder.

"I did not believe that you would wish to. I expected that you would want to rest after your first and slightly strenuous lesson." Hermione glanced down at her newly blossomed tulip. Their afternoons together had become a sacred ritual to her, and even though she _was_ a bit tired, it was not enough to convince her to put off Shakespeare.

"I-I…am a little tired, but I still want to read with you." When the Baron looked doubtful, she continued, her words streaming out in a rush. "It's just that it's important to me and I really like reading with you and I was thinking that maybe we could read outside as its so nice and warm-"

"Hermione," the Baron cut off the flood of words quickly and Hermione started, afraid that she might have done something to offend him. "That sounds like a grand idea. I will not assume anything else about your wishes again." Hermione froze with relief. Suddenly, the idea of offending the Baron or alienating him in anyway seemed like a terrible misdeed, and the thought that she may have done so made her afraid. Not that he would be angry, or hurt her, but that he would leave her alone. And she knew that having the Baron leave her would feel like he had taken half of her soul with him.

"Shall we go?" Baron Beast offered Hermione his arm, and she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. As they walked out the door of the immense library, she realized that she had forgotten Macbeth on the mantle in the library. But she was too at ease and comfortable with the Baron to bother disturbing the comfortable silence, interrupted only by the muffled footfalls of the Baron's clawed paws.

When they reached the glass doors that led to the immense outdoor garden, the Beast halted, and looked down at Hermione.

"You don't have Macbeth, do you?" Hermione blushed, and bit her lip and the Baron chuckled softly. "What had you so distracted that you forgot it?" Hermione's mind flooded with answers, all with the central theme: you. The Baron had distracted her, with the scent of cedar and spice, the voice of velvet and sandpaper, and the smile that Hermione had come to find a joy in seeing. And the fear that the Baron would walk out the door, and see may be left alone. She murmured vaguely under her breath before dashing back towards the library, her face burning with embarrassment as she ducked her chin to her chest.

The Baron Beast settled into a chair near the doors, watching her fleeing figure and the gentle rippling of her emerald dress as she hastened back to the library. Her thick braid was whipping back and forth with her stride as she disappeared down the corridor. He rest his long muzzle in a paw, preparing himself to wait until she returned with a small chuckle waiting in his throat and a faint smile on his black lips and in his yellow eyes.

Hermione returned, a bit out of breath and still red with exertion and embarrassment, with the book in her hand only a few moments later. She was bent over slightly, her hand on her chest and she tried to catch her breath and the book in the other hand which was balanced on her thigh to keep her on her feet. The chuckle that had been waiting in the Baron Beast's throat escaped and Hermione looked up sharply.

"And what exactly, do you find so amusing?" She spoke with a slight edge, but also a slight smile. The Baron's smile widened and his amber eyes glowed softly. He spoke as he rose from his seat,

"You, my dear Hermione. I find you amusing in this moment." Hermione's breath caught and her heart leapt into her throat at 'my dear.' The Baron reached out a paw and gently pushed a lock of hair that had escaped her braid back behind her ear and Hermione shuddered at the scraping of her claw against the sensitive skin behind her ear. Taking her shudder for disgust, the Baron jerked his hand back and began to mutter an apology, but Hermione interrupted him.

"No, don't apologize; I'm just a bit...cold, is all. It's warmer outside, though. Shall we go?" She took a step towards the door, and when the Beast did not follow her, she reached out a hand and took his paw, pulling him towards the door. The Baron nodded and pushed the doors open with one hand, the other still captured by Hermione's. She marveled for a moment at how small and weak her hands looked encased in the Baron's long, black, paw-hands. Yet, he still was so gentle whenever he touched her shoulder and led her by pressing on the small of her back. She let go of his hand as he began to walk toward the doors and fell into step beside him, walking quickly to keep up with his long stride. When they sat together on a patch of grass in the rose garden, Hermione sat closer than usual to the Baron, keeping one hand on the Baron's arm as he read aloud from the play.

That evening Hermione took special care in preparing for dinner with the Baron. She pulled out the dress which she knew was the Beast's favorite, with a flowing scarlet skirt and fitting bodice with golden piping. She wore a griffin pendant that she had found in the drawers of her room in the hollow of her throat, its ruby eyes glittering. Last, she eased her hair out of its usual all day braid, and smiled when it settled into thick, loose curls that settled on her shoulders, the soft brown sitting softly on the crimson fabric of her bodice.

She headed towards the dining hall, the heels on her golden shoes clicking gently on the stone floor warmed with the heat of summer. When she reached the hall, she went to her high-backed chair, where the Baron was waiting. He pulled the chair out for her, and once she was settled in, he pushed forward to the table before striding the length of the table to sit in his chair on the opposite end.

When the food appeared on the table, she and the Baron began to dine in their usual silence. Hermione ate sparsely, worried about what she knew was coming, yet elated at the same time. After she had eaten the first five bites of the salad, she began to contemplate. Contemplate her life at the castle, her old life, and the Baron.

He was intelligent, well versed, and interesting to talk to. Hermione cared for him very deeply. He was sensitive, caring, and a great source of happiness in Hermione's life. She had completely forgotten the circumstances under which she had arrived, and it felt as though she had lived in this castle her entire life, and that she had always known the Baron, even if on some subconscious level that she could not completely comprehend. This castle had become her home; no…this castle had always been her home. She had come home when she was dumped here. She belonged here. Hermione was terrified of the thought of having to leave this magnificent place, where everything was run by magic and the mysterious atmosphere was always cloaked over the castle, although not malicious or ominous, just comfortable and curious.

Her thought were interrupted by a new course appearing in front of her with a slight clatter, unlike the usual silent appearance and disappearance of dishes and cutlery with each course. She jerked slightly, causing her chair to scrape loudly on the stone floor, and the echoes to reverberate multiple times in the enormous hall. The Baron's head jerked up from his meal and his pointed black ears were erect, catching the sound.

"Are you well, Hermione?" Hermione nodded quickly, smiling gently to reassure the Baron of her health. She didn't want to concern him with her own thoughts that were confusing enough to her without attempting to vocalize them.

"Yes, just startled. I was thinking." The Baron smiled.

"If clattering platters startled you that badly, you must have been deep in thought. What was it that was occupied your thoughts to such an extent?" For the second time, Hermione's mind filled with answers that she couldn't find the courage to voice. You, your voice, your kindness, your mind. She mumbled again, and stared down at her lap for a moment. Dessert arrived and Hermione lifted her fork silently as the Baron turned back to his plate, now holding chocolate mousse.

"Baron?" The Baron Beast lifted his head, mousse balanced precariously on his fork. "What's your name? I don't know why I never asked before, but I was just wondering." She knew why, but she wasn't going to tell him. She never asked because she wasn't sure just how close she wanted him to get to her, or how close to him she wanted to be. She didn't want to close a distance if that distance would only be replaced by pain if she chose to leave. She didn't want to be hurt, or to hurt the Baron if she chose something that could prove painful to the both of them. But know she felt she was ready to know. The Baron stared at his plate for a moment before lifting his eyes to her, amber yellow meeting chocolate brown.

"My name is Severus…Severus Snape." Hermione smiled, feeling like a space had been filled inside of her, or a distance closed.

"It suits you." She blushed as he smiled at her, and they both dug into their mousse simultaneously. Once they had finished and the dishes where cleared from the table, the Baron stared at Hermione for a moment, and she felt a flush rising on her cheeks with the intensity of the stare. This was unusual, usually he just asked her without any sort of preamble, she felt very much exposed.

"Hermione, will you marry me?" Hermione felt a heat rising under her ribs as she shifted in her seat. Severus' ears drooped and he began to rise from his chair. Hermione rose from her chair before he could leave.

"Wait! Baron-I mean Severus, yes." He seemed puzzled for a moment, then his spirits seemed to lift, along with his face and Hermione smiled. She felt her flush sink back into her skin, although the warmth still sat under her ribs. "I will marry you, Severus. I love you."


	5. Happily Ever After

Beauty and the Beast

AN: I am sooooo sorry that it has taken so long to update my stories! I got caught up over the summer and my last year of high school is upon me does a happy dance Enjoy! R&R! And remember that Raven never abandons a good story!

Chapter Five

There was a period of silence after Hermione's declaration and Hermione felt the balloon in her chest start to leak its buoyant load. What if Severus changed his mind? What if he didn't really love her? What if, what if, what if? But her thoughts were cut short by muffled paw steps as Severus strode forward and wrapped his long, strong arms around Hermione's shoulders.

"I love you too, Hermione." Hermione sighed and leaned into the Beast's embrace, sighing as his wonderful scent wrapped around her senses. Her arms lifted themselves from her sides, and she wrapped them around Severus. Hermione wondered at how easily she slipped into calling him Severus. By his name, which would soon be her name-her heart fluttered and her breath caught.

Severus pulled gently back from the embrace, his long snout pressed gently into her cheek, his eyes focus on hers. Hermione stared back at him intently, and was astonished to see his eyes were no longer a stark yellow, but a deep onyx black that was so dark that his eyes almost vanished into his black fur. He was becoming human again, right before her eyes.

His snout receded into his face as his hair vanished from most of his body. His clawed paws narrowed in long, spidery fingers. His shoulders narrowed, in fact his whole body was shirking, his clothes-luckily- shrank with him. Soon, a human and barefoot Severus Snape stood in front of Hermione, his hands still resting on Hermione's shoulders. Hermione moved her arms from around Severus, reaching a hand out to trace the details of his face: the strong bridge of his nose, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and the thin line of his lips.

Severus' fingers drew small circles in Hermione's shoulders. He leaned down to press his face into Hermione's soft hair. He could finally touch her without fear of disgust or recoil. It was magnificent for him to be able to feel the smoothness of her skin, the warmth of her flesh. He mumbled into her hair.

"What was that, Severus?" Hermione turned her face towards him, so that her nose brushed his neck. His skin was delightfully cool and smooth.

"I said, thank you, Hermione." Hermione smiled, although she was slightly puzzled.

"For what?" Severus kissed her neck and Hermione hummed at the sensation.

"For setting me free, and for loving me, and for letting me love you in return." Severus pulled away from Hermione's hair and Hermione stared into his onyx eyes. She brought a hand up to his cheek.

"You don't need to thank me, if anything, I should be thanking you. For being so patient with me, for loving me, and for letting me love you in return." She smiled, and tilted her chin up in invitation for a first kiss, and Severus could not decline.

The End

AN: Yes, this is finally the end. Very short, I know, but I didn't know what else to do. Any suggestions for a sequel or extension of this story should be included in reviews. Thanks, raven


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